Radcliffe's Dagger Moth Caterpillar

I found this guy walking across the hot tub. When I closed in for the photo, he reared up, as if to show me his fearsome front legs, warning me not to come any closer. Click to enlarge.

Cardinal Mate Swap

For at least a half-dozen years we have enjoyed watching our resident pair of cardinals go about the business of foraging, feeding, and rearing their young. We've been treated by their song, their beauty, and antics of the babies. I have written before that, because of the distinctive coloring of the male and female, we can easily tell them apart. Moreover, because the male is very territorial, he prevents any other male from setting up residence in our clearing; therefore, this is the only pair of cardinals we've seen around the homestead. In fact, we've watched them so many times over the years that we've gotten to know both of them—almost as family members. Their behavioral quirks have become quite familiar.

That's why I was rather startled when I watched an adult female cardinal fly to the feeder, a week or so ago. I was surprised because this was not our resident female. The breast of this bird was much lighter in color, her body was more slender, and her wings were a more somber shade of brown. I wondered if she was just passing through, which is odd in the middle of the brooding season; or if she'd soon be chased away by the larger resident female.

The new bird flew off and I went about my chores. A day or so later I spotted the newcomer again. I also recalled that I'd not seen the familiar old female in the meantime. Then I was surprised to see the male fly to the feeder one evening and join the new female. His behavior around her—eating with her, chipping back and forth as they did so, and then flying off with her—was exactly as he had done for years with his long-time mate. It hit me that this must be his new mate! I'm sure that he would not be cavorting with another female—unless his former mate was gone.

Over the next several days I watched the newly-mated pair come and go from the feeder—continuing to act like a typical cardinal couple. Something had happened to his old mate. I pondered the possibilities. I doubt that she's still alive—she'd not have surrendered her queendom of the clearing without a fight. I had watched her assertive ways for too many years to accept the fact that another female would likely dethrone her.

Cardinals may mate for just one season or for life—as our pair seemed to have done. What happens when one of the mates dies? Do they mourn the loss of the partner they've had for several years? Some people have observed the death of a mated bird, watched the behavior of the survivor, and interpreted it as grieving. This may be, but we humans have a propensity to read how we would feel in the situation into an animal's behavior. It's called anthropomorphism.

We humans will likely never know how an animal really feels. I once watched a black snake raid a bluebird nesting box, then kill and eat two babies, before I chased it off. The parents fought the snake noisily and gallantly, but I observed no mourning on their part, after the incident was over. Very soon they resumed feeding their two surviving babies (one of which I had picked up off the ground and put back in the box), behaving as if nothing had happened. They had important things to do.

As for my male cardinal and his new mate: How had he behaved at the loss of his former mate? Was he present when she met her end? Did she actually die? I can't believe that, as a settled pair for so long, he'd simply dump her. It seems odd that this would happen in the middle of the brooding season, but if she did die, why should he not promptly carry on? That indomitable spirit is what has kept this species going for millions of years.

This is yet another of those examples of what happens when you have the time to delve into an event in Mother Nature's wonderful world. You are able to learn some fascinating things—but for every single piece of knowledge you gather, you just uncover at least two more puzzling questions. It's what keeps my life here on the homestead an endless, interesting quest to understand the secrets of the natural world.

Horsefly Closeup

I've posted photos before of a horsefly. Here's a couple from a few days ago. Note the multiple-lens eyes and that nasty stinger on the bottom photo. Click to enlarge.

Witnessing a Healing Sisterhood

I have recently been privileged to witness a team of women surround and lend crucial support to a member who encountered a critical health threat. Sally (not her real name) was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Her surgeon told her that it may well be confined to her uterus and that its removal would likely free her body of the disease. Rather straightforward surgery was scheduled and performed. Sally went home the next day, to await the report of the pathology lab—to be delivered in a week's time.

Her recovery appeared to be uneventfully rolling along, but problems quickly set in: Sally began to experience significant levels of pain and her temperature rose, as she became feverish. She went to the emergency room, unable to get in touch with her surgeon, to get his advice. She was diagnosed with an infection that likely was started during her surgery. Over the next few days Sally fought pain and intestinal problems, had to return a second time to the ER, and finally saw her infection begin to abate.

I will not delve further into Sally's struggles here—or her mistreatment at the hands of her surgeon, as well as the ER. Her case is just another example of countless others who come up against the foibles of the American healthcare system (which too often seems neither caring nor healthy). She did recover and soon found out that the cancer had been confined to her uterus; she is now almost back to normal. What I want to describe is the remarkable support that she received from the sisterhood, especially when complications set in.

In the week or so after her surgery, as her pain increased, Sally was swept up in the healing net of a loving and skilled circle of female friends. The team members responded spontaneously and capably—going to her home to help her in many ways: from food preparation to house cleaning to medical assistance. It helped that some of the team members are nurses, so they could also give able assistance, as well as serve as interlocutors with the hospital authorities to get her the appropriate aid.

As I watched the sisterhood swing into action, it occurred to me (full disclosure: I'm a male) that I was observing a vital role that women have performed for humanity, for as long as we've been a species on this planet. That role is often sorely underrated by the dominant half of our species: men. Just as history is written by the victors, society's values have been defined by authoritative men, who don't give adequate recognition to what women do to nurture and care for those among us who are stricken with ailments.

Women have literally provided the glue that holds civilization together. That may sound a little overstated, but I believe it is true. Women's role in sustaining the family has long been understood, but their efficacy extends far beyond the family unit. Without their crucial role, humanity would be nowhere near as cohesive and robust as it is.

Watching the sisterhood circle Sally and give her the care she badly needed, I felt privileged to witness the love and connections they brought to the occasion. It was beautiful. Long live the sisterhood!

Wren Babies at 6 Days

Wren Babies at 9 Days

Wren Babies at 13 Days